Paint Spills
by still-lilies
Summary: Introspective. A summary of Linda's life, and who she is and was.


_Note: This was written for the livejournal community of dn_contest. The prompt was Linda._

* * *

Linda had- used to have- another name. It had been a wonderful name, she was told.

It was the only thing she remembered being told.

Linda did not want to know this name. Not after millions of years of life.

Ever since arriving at Whammy's orphanage, she was Linda and she would be Linda forever.

Linda was a wonderful name too, and she loved it.

-

Linda had been different. She had loved bright shapes and messes and spills over white papers, sharpened crayons and bright illustrations.

She had not loved books and inked speeches over dusty papers, or cold containers and boxes filled with strangely-shaped mechanics, or the studies of everyday things and the understanding of how they worked.

Most of the kids seemed to like these things.

And so, Linda was different. She had a talent and a reason for being there, but they were different in every way.

Nobody seemed to understand her love for art.

(But in the end, that wasn't a problem, because _everybody _was different, and so she had discovered more as she drew.)

-

Linda had made friends. She had made many friends, friends who weren't just crayons and inks and paint jars- _humans _friends, she had discovered, were wonderful too.

Humans were similar to her. Yet they were different. And they were so many, came in so many different varieties. Nobody in Whammy's house was too similar.

In Whammy's House, _everybody_, she had discovered, were different. Everybody was peculiar and unusual and unable to fit in with common people.

-

Linda had not been as bright and as intelligent at the rest. She had been smart and she had been clever, but not ambitious and special amongst them.

In Whammy's crowd, Linda had been average.

-

Linda had worn her hair in pigtails because they were comfortable and didn't get in the way, and she loved how her hair felt.

Later, when she grew up, she decided to change herself and she cut them, and became Linda, not Linda of Whammy's, just Linda.

-

Linda had made friends. Mello and Near had stood out in the crowd of people who stood out. Special people amongst the special.

(Near, Mello, and Matt. The third one was never given much attention. He probably liked it this way.)

Near had been white, silver, but in the standarts of the crowd, he was like gold- Mello was the one with bright yellow hair, but he was the one in black, and he was second, he was like silver.

(Matt had been third and he was bronze.)

Near was one who was hardly approached. He always seemed to be with himself, and with his puzzles, and he would break them and put them back together all over again.

Near was a different boy, too. He was somebody hard to understand, someone with a strange thought process, someone with so much talent and smarts that it had to be hidden under the personal of a cold, lifeless boy, dressed it no colors to fit.

But if there was one thing that Linda knew, that, under all that, Near was _alive_ .

(Because she remembered herself, hollow and shocked and unresponsive, after the crash. They had come to her, asked her what happened, and, little girl, what's wrong?)

Mello was fierce. He was determined, competitive, different from Near in every way, completely unmellow despite his nickname (She didn't want to know his real name, because Mello was Mello and Near was Near and Linda was Linda and it showed how much they were part of this place)

Mello was more alive and brighter than anything, a poster of bright colors and impossible to miss when Near was like white paper- blank and needing to be filled with _something._

(And Matt. He had been something in between. Had to. She didn't know what Matt was truly like. It seemed like everybody wore _some _sort of half-mask.)

-

Linda had been thirteen when she said goodbye. Sent to an art school, like she had dreamed.

She had cried and missed the place but had not regretted leaving it, because this new place was wonderful. It had everything she ever wanted and she was given the ability to discover everything she ever wanted in art and let her world and skills expand.

-

Linda had grown into an artist. She had a gallery of her own, people who went to look at it, something to make a living with, and something to enjoy.

She occasionally used crayons because they reminded her of her first home.

-

Linda had wondered if you could say that it's fun to live.

But that was the point of life, wasn't it? In the end, all those people who fight and debate and argue, and work themselves to death, isn't the point, the very goal, something that you will enjoy?

Isn't it?

-

Linda had enjoyed drawing humans. They were fun, to try and capture their self and their essence and what made them stand out so in a drawing and the shape of their features and their looks, to show clearly the expression they were and make others understand it- it had been a special challenge, a challenge she loves.

Colors were a great final touch.

-

Linda had always loved colors. It was one of the best things about art. Colors could be bright and joyous and powerful and strong, and they could be hazy and faded and lifeless, and colors could say so much about a picture and give so much mood. Bright primary colors were the best, because they brought her back to her childhood and reminded her how much life had given her despite how much it took from her.

They reminded her of the orphanage that she grew up in, reminded her of how she would spend hours as a child in the art rooms, covering the papers with shades of purple and red and yellow and blue. They would remind her, even today, of the wonderful things about the place.

They would remind her of the colorless place, covered almost completely in grey and brown and white, and remind her that it existed.

When people left Whammy's, all connections with it broke off. There wasn't a world for the children in it, and it was a place easy to forget, to disconnect to.

Linda wouldn't forget.

-

Linda had what she wanted and needed and was satisfied with life.

Why reach for more when you had an ultimate goal and were working well to achieving it?

(And so Linda was Linda, just Linda - forever.)

.End


End file.
